Sang e Khisht

باب ششم

گلاب تو مل ہی جاتا ہے
انسان کو ایک یار ہی ملنا ہے
اور وہی یار ڈھونڈنا ہے ایک جہاد

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Chapter 6 : Dar, darya aur darab

He was covered in rain. The thick material of his shirt clung to his skin. Sweat beads melting down his back as the cold pelts of rain gained intensity. Each one like the stroke of hellfire. Despite the ghastly appearance of grey clouds overhead, the rumbling of lightning, and the ferocious growls of the wildlife in the forests running parallel to the Northern half Naazimgarh. He stood still. In the centre of the now empty meadows.

Stillness. It was utterly still, his actions. Stationary, so perfectly, that he looked like a well crafter sculpture. Placed there by the hands of an expert maestro. His chest rose at an awfully slow pace, the movement underneath his left pectoral deathly. Rubbing the back of his palm against his neck, ends of his fingers clashing with the thin chain around it. Darab's hands dropped to his sides, his lips morphing into a pout. A sound — a soft whistle escaping the grounds of his voice box. Into the hollow night.

Failing to hide his grin at the sight of his stallion. It's dark mane, the ode to it's roots that had started fancily in Arabia. He watched with untampered pride as the horse leapt through the tall grass, it's hoofs slashing against the raindrops to run to him. Defeating the pace of light and sound, stilling only until it's face nuzzled into the chest of it's owner.

Darab's usually harsh gaze softened. His calloused palms reaching out to stroke the top of Darya's head. Dropping kisses alongside it's cheek. The horse neighed. He cooed in response at the proximity of his oldest friend. Shivering in the cold, stilling only as Darab threw over it his thick leather jacket. Leading it towards the stables a few miles to the south.

"Ainvi russeya na kar meri jaan," he hummed, rubbing his hand back and forth over the nape of Darya's neck, "ni teray jeya hor disda."
[Do not loose your temper with me my love, for I do not see anyone like you.]

His companion only neighed in reply, hitting the side of it's body gently against Darab's waist. Brushing his palm with the edge of it's slobbery nuzzle.

Gentle orange rays seeped from under the thick doors to the stable. The stained wood, lined with brass and iron nails had stood the testament of time. Rolling with ease as he pushed it open with the edge of his water filled shoe. Light — harsher now, falling on to the beast and his horse. Their shadows mixed in with the murky puddles, above the soil yet below the over grown weeds.

Musky ; smelling of hay and water, the stable was closer to home than anything. A filament bulb flickered, at the foyer and a few feet away a huge entourage of lights burned bright. Candles and gas lamps rested in triangular wooden trims. Shadows danced along beige walls, over the hay stacked floorings. The mares already asleep, their soft snores danced inside the room, despite the loud clash of thunder outside.

Opening the door to Darya's stall — the largest amongst the stable, he placed a parting kiss over the apex of his forehead. He stared at his fingers that were due to the heat, far more pale than he was used to. Contrasting against the inkiness of Darya's skin. Flexing his biceps, he wrapped both his hands around the giant's frame, laying hay over the ground to ensure comfort.